You have something, or rather, someone that I want. I apologize for the informal nature of this letter, but I'm afraid my patience has run thin and you've found yourself caught in the crossfire. The purpose of this correspondence is to prepare you for my demands. Find yourself some privacy and arrange for negotiation. Whether or not you give me what I want is not in question, but rather, whether you'll give it up willingly.

Tucker Reid just failed at stealing money from you! Amari felt someone attempting to check her pockets. The cleric's gun slid down into her hand and she pointed it at his fingers. "Good try..." She pulled the trigger and a flag popped out. A sign said 'Better luck next time buddy!'

*recoils at his because* No judgement here...*might have grease with her for other things**doesn't know what those other things might be**arches a brow* Wanted poster? WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING?!*sniffles* Was it bad?

*cants head* Do I know you?*looks around* Did I get arrested again?*stands up, squeezes with all her might through the bars* Thank you...we aren't in Mexico are we?*dusts self off, hands the male a lime* For your time and trouble...they're like gold in these parts. *shifty eyes*

*soft incoherent babbling followed by sleepy dialogue that is most forgettable in the morning*
Thank you. You’re the bestestestestestest est-ever. Lloyd? I think he’s asleep. I’m asleep. Are you asleep? You should eat some pie. Pie is good.

Honestly, she had started to wonder. But when the man peeked from around the corner and had the white towel. She knew she had been right all along. Reid Funnel Home Rigsby had stopped his incoherent babbling, and instead stared mystified at the man who spoke with a toothless smile.

Caitlyn's own smile barely had moved, but she at least wasn't chanting funnel cakes anymore. She sets her bag down in the back of the stroller, and looks at Tucker expectantly. "Hello! I'm Caitlyn and this is Rigbsy. We're here for Funnel cakes. This is Reid Funnel House right?" She asked with a beaming grin.

She ignored some unpleasant scents she had picked up, and kicked them up to Rigsby must need a diaper change. "Rigsby's first Funnel cake! Oh this is so exciting. Can we watch you make them?" Awestruck she clasped her hands together in front of her, and felt her mouth saturate at even the reminiscence of her last funnel cake.

Tucker
Darrow.
Lloyd may just eat you. He was always more Jameson's than mine when he was in The Order. He was our lawyer. Got me out of all types of trouble!
When tf are you going to invite me to London?

Caitlyn had met Tucker briefly after the fall of The Order. But ever since he said he worked in a funnel house, she had been craving funnel cakes like a mentally unstable kitten trying to latch onto a cow udder. The stroller creaked by with Rigsby babbling on inside of it.

She found it! Reid Funnel Home. A loud squeal of delight emits from her lips, as she leans forward to inspect Rigsby. "Ready to try your first funnel cake?!" After giving his small bit of hair a ruffle she progressed forward opening the door and stepping inside.

"Funnel cakes! Funnel cakes!" She chanted and hummed merrily that is until the door closed behind the and she got a good look around. Blue-green hues narrow and take in her surroundings. "FUNNEL CAKES?!"

It’s impossible to be stealthy when you’re 6’0 of gangly limbs, but agility is on Elouise’s side. Recently, she’s dedicated her energy to making Tucker’s life as inconvenient as possible. It’s how she endears herself to the people in her life, after all. Catching sight of Solomon King’s younger, uglier brother, she creeps up behind him, fingers immediately dishing into his back pocket to grab his wallet. “Hey, Tasha.” She states with a smirk, plucking out the wad of cash stuffed into leather folds. “I’m going on a taco run. Thanks for pitching it!”

She’s already backpedaling, a toothy grin on her lips. “What’s yours is mine, after all!”

~*~ Ella wheeled the small luggage bag behind her. Currently engrossed with the screen of her phone, and reading the updates on her extradited flight to go meet James. She busied herself swiping her finger to the messages pinging at her. Then she ran into something firm. Human. With a subtle look at the crotch area, it was a man. ~*~

''Sh!t. Sh!t. My bad, sorry! Well. Hi there. Um..''
~*~ With a fastened turn of her head she could tell that she no doubt lost her way. Why use the phone? When she can use the human pole standing in front of her. He was handsome, but she didn't see a ring - not exactly her type.. but.. she had time. She posed the question and tugged the buds from her ears to hear the man's response. ~*~

"Good. Me neither." She snorted, lifting a hand to scratch idly at her cheek. She observed Tucker in silence, leaning over to grab another shot from the table. She had spent so long making up new names for him, she wasn't actually certain if 'Tucker' was his given name. Oh well.

After kicking back yet another shot, she leaned into the comfort of the sofa, now apparently at ease. "So..." What the f*ck was his name? "Tracy. Right? Anyways." Smooth. "The only real rules I have around here are that you don't eat my Cheetos, you don't f*ck my sister-in-law, and you don't drink my Kool-Aid. It's spiked with all sorts of sh*t. Don't want you to die."

Leave it to Elouise to let the interesting people in. At least the man knew how to hold his liquor. Otherwise, the evening would be over rather expediently. "At least you're an obedient weird-o." She cleared her throat. "For the record, you're under no obligation to actually spend time with me. But, it was either you, or another night spend with Cheech, Chong, and Wolverine." For the record, Cheech and Chong were the dogs, and Wolverine, naturally, her son, but she would offer zero explanations on this front.

"Moderately handsome strangers, thank you. I don't keep company with uggos." She shuffled over, hands full with two shots apiece. "My husband is a f*cking monster, my only friend is a sex-addicted lesbian, and you're what's left. See my dilemma?" She smirked, kicking back a shot with ease.

The blonde chooses to mull over her drink. For all of ten extra seconds. The agave fluid was a refreshing sensation as it spilled over the back of her throat. "Just remember, it's 100 percent your choice. Looking at old man d*cks all day. Just sayin'." Her next move, of course, is to prepare shots. It's done in her same methodical silence.

"So, are you a social leper? Is that why you're stuck drinking with me? Shouldn't you...be getting chlamydia from a Russian stripper?"

Cerulean eyes blinked slowly. Mortician. That would have been of some use in the past several days. With the number of bodies she'd gone through, it would have been easier to have used him. Unassuming or not. That thought, however, is kept solely in the reserves of her mind. Mindlessly, she shifted over towards the cabinet, procuring two glorious, boot-shaped glasses. Classic.

"I can't say I prefer human company often. Sometimes, however, it's necessary." She tapped her temple. "The baby is fun, and all, but the cute little b*stard can't hold a conversation for sh*t." She offered one of the glasses in Tucker's direction then. "I guess you're not that f*cked up." She knitted her brow. Weird. "How many naked old people have you seen? Oh. Gross. A lot. Definitely a lot."

She jerked a thumb towards the closet across the room. "Definitely another one in there." Arms full, she dumped bottles onto a large, circular table. After adjusting the brim of her comically large hat, she turns to face him. "Right." Her movements as hasty and methodical as she prepared what one could consider the strongest margaritas known to man.

She is mostly silent during the process, always the type of person who prefers a comfortable silence above all else. And in Tucker's company, she felt perfectly sound. "So, what's your catch? Serial killer? Cannibal? Pedophile?" When she finally spoke, it couldn't possibly lack her normal biting sense of humor. "You seem way too normal."

It's on rare occasion these days that someone comes in search of Elouise Orlav. Not that it has ever been especially common, but, still. "Re-lax, hombre." She called before shuffling over to the door. And, in good fashion, she is adorned in matching poncho and sombrero. "...don't f*cking judge me."

She swung the door open, a mocking sweep of the hand bidding him welcome. "I have...cheetos. Probably some hummus. Definitely lime."

The angel threw one fist, then the next, and the routine repeated itself until the deed was done. She flicked the drops of blood off her knuckles, drawn from her victim's upper lip, and straightened herself up. She'd usually been good with keeping her attacks hidden from bystanders, but it seemed she had a quiet audience this evening. As Julliet tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, her bright blue orbs acknowledged the presence of the onlooker with a half nod of her head, before strolling away to continue her business. Maybe her witness learned a thing or two...

She laughs. It isn't intended to be malicious in any way, but rather as a sign of genuine empathy. Waving idly, she confesses, "It took me a week to figure out how to get from the kitchen to my room. Someone ought to map this place out." Perhaps that'd be a task for a rainy day.

"The cameras, though" - she swivels to find the nearest one - "You'll get used to them. Jameson... Dr. Orlav has them in place for a reason." She offers a toothy grin and a nonchalant shrug, hoping the gesture would be enough to reassure the Order's newest member. "None in your room or bathroom, though. Thankfully."

With an amused grin, Soleil sidles up to him, mirroring his peculiar fingertips-only wave. She can't help but let out a quiet laugh. "I'm Soleil," she replies, sticking out her hand, "Just wanted to say welcome to the Order."

She's intrigued, as she is by most creatures of the Realm, and can already tell that he's one of her kind. Perks of having a keen sense of smell, perhaps. "Let me know if there's anything I can do, yeah? Did El show you around at all?"

Soleil had just been passing through the Compound when her phone buzzed. "New guy, huh," she mutters after scanning through the text she'd just received, "Interesting." Coincidentally, an unfamiliar body is shuffling down the hallway just in front of her. Her brow arches in curiosity.

"Tucker?" she calls out, hastening her pace some, "Hey! Are you Tucker?"

"The fridge is fully stocked. It isn't as if you'll need to leave." After a slight pause, she's walking away. "Speaking of, mark your food in the fridge. I'll totally disregard it, but the others won't." Entering the kitchen, she allows the labeled cabinets, drawers, and dining area to itself. Everything is shades of white and gray. Dull. Basic. Clean. The blonde preferred her surroundings orderly.

"My husband's name is Jameson. He's...away." Her tone shifts, decidedly more on edge than before. "Jason, big guy with the beard? He's usually around. As for the others...they come and go. Soleil is here, for now."

A vague smirk tugs at El's lips. This one is funny. "Tucker, then." Nimble feet begin to pad down the hall. She doesn't glance back, sure he'll follow. "We like to keep it very dorm-esque here. Your room has a bed, a dresser, and a mostly functional closet. You have your own bathroom, but if you clog that sh*t..." She makes a foul expression. "That's your goddamn problem."

It seems almost random, the direction Elouise takes through the maze of hallways, and even more so when she selects a uniform, gray door out of all the others. Manicured fingers procure a sharpie, and she marks the door boldly with the word 'Troy'. Cheeky? Of course. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. "Rearrange the furniture however you want. You can also replace it with your own, or not, I don't really give a sh*t."

Arms fold across her chest as she shifts to allow him entrance. As she does, her other hand lifts up to dangle a key. "Every other entry is locked by retina-scan, thumbprint and pass-key. We'll get you set up with that later...if I'm not busy."

"Oi. New guy." Elouise beckons with an idle hand wave. She notes his height, though, the blonde is rarely intimidated by size. Being six feet tall tends to allot the woman with a rare confidence. "What's your name again? Todd?" Cerulean eyes are squinting, and it isn't entirely clear whether or not she's joking. "I can show you your digs, if you want. I put you right next to the nursery. Figured I can ignore the baby, but you won't be able to."

Silver eyes glittered with amusement as she regarded the man with subdued interest, shoulders rising and falling as she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Blood red lips curled into a malicious smile as she snickered at him, unable to hide her amusement at him very well. "The thing about that is sweet," she tilted her head at him as she scented the air and wrinkled her nose, "that I will bathe this world in blood and etch my name into the flesh of the innocent as I tear Heaven apart." A slender finger touched her bottom lip as a black nail tapped in a rhythmic manner, "As for bottom dwelling, it doesn't take a brain surgeon to know that Hell lies beneath your feet." She flashed a pretty smile as she walked off, laughing.

Emerald irises burned through the darkness as she stood just within the mouth of an alley, silver hair hanging in curled curtains around a youthful face. Dark lashes fluttered on her cheeks as she looked around, spotting someone that she hadn’t seen before. She could smell the blood, and she knew that she was quite covered in it, her simple white dress splattered with it, her face crusted thickly in places with the substance. She shrugged slender shoulders and stepped out into the glow of a sickly yellow street light, glancing up at the bulb as it buzzed softly with electricity. Her shadow raced up the brick wall to her left, vanishing where the light died. She took a step forward before pausing for a moment. What to say to someone that one had never met before. After a moment she began to walk again, bare feet silent on the sidewalk, drops of blood still falling around her as she moved, She walked past the stranger quietly before whispering in her sweet southern accent, “Try not to die around here, there are some rather nasty little creatures wandering around.” She laughed softly as she turned her head slightly to look at the newcomer. “I’d say you can find me if you need anything, but heaven knows I’m the wrong person to ask for help."